


those knives you call teeth

by cosmoscrow



Category: Dragon Quest Builders (Video Games)
Genre: Character Study, Poetic, Surreal, actually no, and somehow i thought of malroth, bc i literally have no idea what came over me, characters who are just odd. like uncanny valley odd, i was inspired by a poetry short i wrote a while ago, listen i love characters with monster traits, literally just imagine an –ish behind all those previous tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:19:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24926038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmoscrow/pseuds/cosmoscrow
Summary: Malroth doesn't understand– well. Malroth? But knows his teeth feel like knives.
Relationships: Builder & Malroth (Dragon Quest Builders 2)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 42





	those knives you call teeth

**Author's Note:**

> hello i have no idea what this is, but i have known Malroth for about 30mins and i was ready to lay down my life for him. his relationship with the builder means everything to me and also its hilarious bc he's literally "i dont care for anyone but if you hurt Builder i have no qualms about committing atrocities" so far. a bastard! as a treat!
> 
> also; im at Furrowfield so far bc im slow as all hell so dont take any of this seriously lmaoooo

* * *

When Malroth licks his teeth, he feels blades against his tongue. Sharp and pointed – whatever for? Maybe to intimidate, to make strangers tremble as he sneers. Maybe to bare them, in the heat of battle, in midst of exhilaration. Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe to destroy?

( _To kill?_ )

He clicks his mouth shut and it sounds loud. Like blades. The builder, Toola, doesn’t have blades in her mouth and her smiles are full of pearly whites. A little crooked in places, yet still nice. Because Toola is nice, because Malroth is not. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t understand. Maybe he just doesn’t feel the need to be. Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe he just never was?

( _Is he cruel?_ )

His threats are genuine. At first. They turn to jokes, to unconventional motivators, they make Toola titter. But, this feeling, the violence, it never leaves. It hums and thrums, just underneath his skin, that never feels right. Like he doesn’t fit. This violence, it croons, whenever his eyes settle on whole things. Whole things, things that Toola built, that Malroth watched her build. He eyes the swing that Lillian sits in – and violence simmers in his chest. Maybe he’s just irritated. Maybe he’s just too excited to be careful. Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe he likes it?

( _The violence?_ )

The feeling of his weapon, heavy, heavy in his hands; he adores it. It fits. It’s right. It’s wrong? Malroth forgets as he slays monsters. He beats them, one by one. Every one that falls into his line of sight. It’s a slaughter – he revels in it. The destruction. The victory. He feels warm all over, breathing hard, but he just thinks; more. More. More. More. He craves it, mouth curving, blades for teeth baring. He’ll destroy anyone, he thinks, as his back hits Toola’s with monsters surrounding them. One jumps for him and Toola intercepts it. He’ll destroy anyone for her. Maybe because she’s a builder. Maybe because she’s a friend. Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe because she’s important?

( _Because she’s Toola?_ )

Malroth is hungry. Not the eating kind. The human kind? He’s hungry. He feels hungry, looking at all those buildings, those creations. It makes his fingers flex, his hands twitch – he feels his darkened nails, pointed ever so slightly, like claws. He thinks of his teeth and asks himself, are those blades too? He feels pointed, sharp, at all ends and edges. His teeth, his nails, even his ears. They swivel and twitch at all the sounds. And his eyes feel sharp too. He sees everything and Perry comments they are odd. Toola tells him they are pretty.

( _He’s hungry._ )

Violence sings within him, pleading, threatening, begging – Malroth feels sleep eluding him. He hopes Toola cannot hear it, it sounds so loud. He wants to shush it, reach inside himself and rip it out. He wants to shred it. He wants to break it. He wants to destroy. But he feels so hungry. Why does he feel so–

Hungry?

Hungry?

Hungry?

( _Destroy._ )

Malroth is not– human? No. Yes? He licks his teeth and feels blades. He thinks of battles and it’s exhilarating. He swings his weapon and it feels good. So right. So wrong? He’s hungry, hungry, hungry– violence screeches within him, rattling in a cage. Demanding to be let out. To run free. To rampage. To destroy.

( _Destroy_.)

He looks at Toola – she watches the plains of Furrowfield ahead of them. So empty. So barren. And Malroth looks at Toola – really looks at her. And she looks–

Hungry.

He sees her fingers twitch, curling ever so slightly into her palms. His ears flick and he hears her heartbeat, knocking against her ribs. And he sees her licking her teeth, crooked ever so slightly. Do they feel like blades too? She’s hungry. But not the human kind. Malroth understands. She wants to build. Maybe.

Maybe?

Yes.

So he destroys, blades bared. And she follows, picking up the pieces. Then to destroy is to create, and it’s exhilarating. To feed each other and still the hunger, still the same violence of opposite ends. It’s wrong. It’s right? It’s right to Malroth. He looks at Toola and she smiles, crooked little pearly whites – Malroth can see the blades now.

**Author's Note:**

> [I can offer you exactly one (1) DQB2 doodle.](https://cherrytraveller.tumblr.com/post/621715892862058496/i-have-too-many-dq-doodles-lying-around-so-here)


End file.
